


you and i will always be (the dream)

by alwaysayes



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jealousy, Kisses, M/M, Not really though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-18 15:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16997652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysayes/pseuds/alwaysayes
Summary: Ronan Lynch’s first kiss had been a stolen thing in the dirt-covered aftermath of a street race. Kavinsky had leaned over him in the ending whispers of the late-evening sun and said, “Open wide, Lynch,” and a pill fell onto his tongue, followed by lips on his and his hands shoving back in protest. To Kavinsky, it was just another sordid victory to jot down; to Ronan, it was a robbery.Kavinsky kissed like a vengeful god― all teeth and tongue and Absolut tinted spit. His hands felt like ice-cold sandpaper, leaving shark-skin abrasions on the surface of Ronan’s body.Adam, Ronan would later find out, kissed like a saint― all Vaseline-lips and scarred skin and Grape-flavored Powerade. His hands were pure God, calloused from the years of work he already had stacked up behind him, leaving nothing but trails of heat and the coldness of the Henrietta dirt he came from. Adam Parrish was the antithesis of Joseph Kavinsky, and it gave Ronan a rush he hadn’t felt since he stopped racing.





	you and i will always be (the dream)

**Author's Note:**

> title from the bad list by z berg/ryan ross. i wrote this over the course of like a month in lil bits n pieces lol sorry if theres a lack of continuity or whatever, i tried my best

Ronan Lynch’s first kiss had been a stolen thing in the dirt-covered aftermath of a street race. Kavinsky had leaned over him in the ending whispers of the late-evening sun and said, “Open wide, Lynch,” and a pill fell onto his tongue, followed by lips on his and his hands shoving back in protest. To Kavinsky, it was just another sordid victory to jot down; to Ronan, it was a robbery. 

Kavinsky kissed like a vengeful god― all teeth and tongue and Absolut tinted spit. His hands felt like ice-cold sandpaper, leaving shark-skin abrasions on the surface of Ronan’s body. 

Adam, Ronan would later find out, kissed like a saint― all Vaseline-lips and scarred skin and Grape-flavored Powerade. His hands were pure God, calloused from the years of work he already had stacked up behind him, leaving nothing but trails of heat and the coldness of the Henrietta dirt he came from. Adam Parrish was the antithesis of Joseph Kavinsky, and it gave Ronan a rush he hadn’t felt since he stopped racing.

⸻

Adam sat on Ronan’s bed, watching as Ronan fiddled with some dream-television remote. He watched fondly, keeping all commentary to himself. He thought about how Ronan’s hair had grown since it had rained blood and Gansey had died again, thought about how the snake of a boy had dulled himself down to less resemble a sword and more resemble Adam’s old Boy Scouts pocket knife. It was a sweet thought, one that pulled at the corner of his brain after he left the Barns that day, after he had returned to Connecticut for school, after he had fallen asleep with Ronan being hundreds of miles away.

Adam Parrish, who had once been constructed by black-green bruises and almost-late rent checks, had become the type of boy to tame dragons into alligators; he had become the opposite of his father― only angry when there was a cause. He was not Robert Parrish, who threw punches at the drop of a pin; he was Adam: part forest, part lover, part genius. 

The soft version of Ronan looked at him from the other side of bed, all striking eyes and sprawling limbs. Adam looked back. 

The early morning light of another too-late night was bleeding through the window across the room and it backlit Ronan perfectly; Adam was not religious but he was sure had found God in that moment, and Ronan’s languid smile confirmed the point that he had grown soft in the time since Gansey had died for the second time.  Music was playing from a stereo system in the far corner of the room, a dream thing that seemed to pick music for Ronan’s mood without him saying anything. It was another impossible thing that made everything around it feel magical. 

Ronan turned away, sliding down the pillows that rested against the headboard until his head lay on one. Adam stayed looking at him for a moment, taking in the pale skin and dark ink and the miles of scars on Ronan’s body. 

“Stop staring.” Ronan grunted. Adam blinked. 

He didn’t apologize for once, just nodded and slid his head next to Ronan’s. 

Ronan pulled the thick comforter up to his chin and turned back to Adam, looking at the tan-lines and freckles and scars on  _ his  _ skin, and snapped his fingers. The lights went out, and he stopped indulging himself. He had all the time in the world to look at his magician, but not enough to lay there and just be- so that is what he did. He lay there with Adam, his head next to him on the pillow, dreaming with his eyes open of stars, and ghosts, and ravens, and pills, and―

“Can I touch your face?” Ronan asked, in a moment of dizzy softness. 

“Huh?” Adam asked. He was on the wrong side of the bed; Ronan was speaking into his bad ear. “Switch sides with me.” 

Ronan nodded and pulled himself out from under the blanket and rolled over Adam. It was definitely not the most convenient way of swapping sides but it was worth it for Ronan, to feel Adam’s skin against his for a moment, a leisure which he did not have when Adam was at school.  Adam shifted slightly to the other side of the bed, and Ronan didn’t move his leg from where it sat almost on top of Adam’s. He pulled the blanket back over himself. 

“What did you ask?” Adam asked. His voice was the same level of soft and quiet that it always was, but somehow the blurry sunlight made the sound of his voice more delicate. 

“Nothing.” Ronan said back. 

“I have to leave on the twenty-sixth.” Adam said, moments later. Ronan deflated in that moment. 

“It’s already the twenty-first, Parrish.” 

“I know.” Adam said, and the truth was that he knew more than he wanted to. In six days, he would have to drive back to school and leave again, not able to come back for longer than he wished. It was a heavy thought.

“I’m tired.” Ronan said, and squinted his eyes. 

“I know.” Adam said again. The only thing that made Ronan more tired than being awake and doing things was being awake and doing nothing. Ronan was a dreamer at heart, he felt the best when asleep. 

Ronan fell asleep next to Adam, brain quiet and heart soft; Adam lay awake until morning.

⸻

Ronan woke up mid-afternoon and cold. The spot where Adam had been was Adam-shaped and empty.  He kept himself from looking around for him, knowing he couldn’t be far. He heard noise from the kitchen downstairs, the noise of Gansey, Blue, and Henry laughing, the noise of forks clanking against his mother’s breakfast plates. He rubbed his eyes. 

He looked at the clock. 6:21 PM. He blinked. 1:17 PM. 

He rolled out of bed, taking the blanket with him, and stalked down the stairs. 

When he got to the bottom of the stairs, Gansey’s voice grew louder, talking about whatever new adventure he had stumbled across in Venezuela. He wasn’t the same either, but he was better than he had been. Dying twice did not do much for him; dying twice had, for a while, sucked out what life he thought was left in him. 

“Morning.” Ronan said, stumbling into the kitchen. It smelled fresh, like dirt and strawberries and rain. It smelled like Adam did― like dirt, and strawberries, and rain. 

“Morning, snake.” Blue said.

“Morning, Ronan.” Gansey said. His voice still had the same youthful candor to it, even when he wasn’t being candid; even death couldn’t steal his enchanting manner. 

“Morning, champ.” Henry chimed in. Blue looked at him. Adam coughed. 

Gansey continued the conversation, and Adam handed Ronan a plate of pancakes. He ate them quietly, leaned against the kitchen counter next to Adam. 

“So, Ronan— would you like to hear about our adventures in South America?”  Gansey asked, setting his plate down and pushing his glasses up. Ronan flipped on the garbage disposal. He let it run for close to a minute. 

“ _ That _ is why nobody wanted to kiss you in high school.” Blue said. Ronan looked at her.

“At least I  _ could  _ kiss people in high school.” He replied.

“I wanted to kiss Ronan in high school.” Adam said, sounding  _ almost  _ hurt.

“So did Joseph Kavinsky.” Blue said, shooting a smug look at Ronan from across the kitchen.

“And which one of us succeeded?” Adam joked.

“Both of you.” Ronan replied nonchalantly.

“Please excuse me,” Gansey said, sliding off of the barstool he was sitting on. “Helen is calling.” 

Helen was not calling. 

Henry and Blue followed behind him, aware of the scene that was about to unfold. 

“What do you mean by that?” Adam asked, following the silent screen door slam of Henry, Blue, and Gansey’s departures. 

“I’ve kissed you both.” Ronan said quietly. He could feel the tension in the air. 

“I wasn’t your first kiss?” Adam asked. He put his hand on the the cold countertop and replayed their first kiss in his head.

“Did I ever say you were?” Ronan shot back, staring down at the sink. For someone who raced like he didn’t fear God, he sure was bad at confrontation. 

“No, but I-” 

“Assumed?”  Ronan interrupted, turning to look at him.

“Yeah.” 

“I guess your scientific method elective was useless.” 

It was silent for a moment.

“Kavinsky was a bad kisser, right?” Adam asked. Ronan laughed.

⸻

Ronan Lynch’s second kiss was a secret that he shared only with the stars and grass. It was Adam Parrish’s star-hot lips and his grass-cool hands. It was the sun and moon, sharing one last kiss before they lose their touch in the morning. Adam had leaned against him in the doorway of his childhood bedroom in the dreamy half-dusk light and pressed his lips against Ronan’s; first soft and hesitant, then desperate and content to die with Ronan’s lips on his. To Adam, it was Ronan’s first kiss; to Ronan, it was not.  

Adam kissed like cinnamon tasted― hot and sweet and burning in all the right ways. His hands left cold trails on the small of Ronan’s back, ice cold and beautiful. 

Kavinsky, Ronan remembered, kissed nothing like that. He would keep that moment tucked away for a long time.

⸻

Adam’s hand was trailing the back of Ronan’s head, freckled and cold. Ronan was trying not to shiver against his touch. It was raining, not much unlike the day Gansey died. Everyone had tried to wipe that memory from their minds⸺ Gansey going cold on the street, heart stopping, blood raining around them like an unholy baptism. 

But Adam and Ronan’s bedroom was a cathedral. A monument to love and loss, a monument to grown out buzz-cuts and black eyes and empty. dreamt, tubes of Neosporin. They didn’t think about Gansey’s death there, not when there were other things to think about. 

Adam sighed and pulled away from him.

Ronan looked at him with piercing blue eyes, eyes that could read all your secrets and tell you all the secrets even you didn’t know about yourself.

“Why didn’t you tell me Kavinsky was your first kiss?” Adam asked him. 

“Do the dead really matter?” Ronan asked, in the most sardonic tone he could muster up.

“Ronan.” Adam said firmly. Ronan took a deep breath.

“I didn’t think it mattered.” He said, after a moment.

“Why wouldn’t it matter?” 

“Did you think I was just some baby virgin?” Ronan asked. 

“I just-”

“ _ Assumed _ . That’s a dangerous game.” Ronan’s voice shot daggers into Adam’s heart, like the Three of Swords 

“You never gave me reason to assume you weren’t-”

“Was I supposed to?” 

Adam went quiet. Ronan glared at him. 

“Just drop it.” Adam said finally. 

And so they did.

⸻

Adam couldn’t stop thinking about it.  It was like a knife in the small of his back, resting on his vertebrae. He stood on the porch of the Barns in the cold, watching his breath puff in and out. 

He called Blue.

“Adam,” She said wearily. “It’s three in the morning. Is this about the Kavin-  _ go back to sleep. Gansey _ \- Kavinsky thing?” 

“Maybe.” He said. 

There was a moment of silence. 

“Yes. It is.” 

“It really isn’t your business.” Blue said through the phone. “Ronan has a reason for not telling you, Adam. You know he does.”

“I know.” Adam said blankly. 

Sometimes, Blue’s words knocked him over, where everyone else’s only made him sway. 

⸻

Adam watched Ronan from the passenger seat of the BMW, watching the background sunset cast a halo around his head and make Ronan glow in the way only someone who was almost a ghost could glow. Ronan was winter.

It was late afternoon, and the last day that Adam would be in town to watch the sun set from Singer’s Falls. He hated leaving Singer’s Falls more than anything. It was worse than the time Opal ran into the Barns after being caught in the rain and making the whole house smell like wet dog. He hated endings, even if they weren’t real endings.

Ronan was silent for once, all soft focus on the road while Sufjan Stevens- one of Ronan’s more tender tastes- played over the stereo. 

“Ronan?” Adam said quietly, uneager to destroy the moment.

“Hm?”

“I… should not have reacted the way I did to the Kavinsky stuff.” 

It took a lot out of him to say that. He didn’t like being wrong. 

“Just don’t bring it up again.” Ronan said back, his voice carrying the same tang as biting down on stainless steel. 

“I won’t.” Adam replied.

They drove almost the rest of the way home in silence, bathed in golden-winter-sunset and soft music. Ronan stopped the car when they were almost back at the Barns.

“I get it.” He said, looking over at Adam. It was dark, now.

“Get what?”

“Jesus, Parrish. For all the schools you got into, you-”

“Ronan.”

“You’re mad I didn’t tell you because you were jealous of Kavinsky.” 

Adam was silent.

“I get it.”

Adam was still silent.

“Let’s go home.” He said, finally.

⸻

Ronan Lynch’s first love had been a dreamt thing in the blood-soaked aftermath of a death. Adam had kissed him in the ending whispers of the late-evening sun and a jolt went through his chest. To Adam, it was a kiss; to Ronan, it was a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> im on tumblr as czenry182 & on twitter as coldgiasslove <3


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